


a sight for sore eyes

by tsunderestorm



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:24:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7226065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is a sucker for a guy in uniform. Especially if it's <i>his</i> guy, and especially when that guy is home on a leave Steve hadn't been expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a sight for sore eyes

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [a comic](http://nicoise-salad.tumblr.com/post/138137944229/i-just-wanted-to-draw-uniform-buck-shrugs) drawn by [nicoise-salad](http://nicoise-salad.tumblr.com) which is pretty much my fav thing in the entire world, honestly

The apartment feels different when Steve cracks the door open. He's positive, for one thing, that he'd opened the blinds before stepping out to the market,but there's no late afternoon sunlight filtering into the room to warm the chilled February air hanging heavy inside the place. He enters cautiously, closing the door without a sound and locking it, dropping his keys in the beat-up bowl with a crack down the side that's lived next to the door for years.

“ Stevie.”

_ Bucky _ . 

He feels butterflies in his stomach. It's been months since he saw Bucky anywhere but his dreams: curled up against him at night, whispering that the war was over, he and all the other soldiers were home safe, or hunkered down next to him in a forest across an endless expanse of ocean, ready to kick Nazi ass side-by-side. 

_ This isn't real _ , his mind tells him.  _ You're dreaming again, or maybe the cold’s finally killed you _ . Sent you straight on to heaven, and surprise, it's just like real life but at least Bucky Barnes is there, not in hell like he always insisted he belonged. If he can't fight in the war and he can't help Bucky support them, he guesses that wouldn't be so bad.

_ Look again _ , his heart says.  _ He's here, firm and corporeal and real, and you better be honest when you tell him how bad you've been aching for him. _

He turns around slowly, disbelieving.

Bucky’s leaning on the desk across the room, the one up against the window. 

Steve remembers when they'd gotten that old thing: the bank five blocks over had gotten new furniture delivered and Bucky had begged for one of the old ones, a scratched, heavy old thing with a rickety leg. He'd dragged it up two flights of stairs and fixed the wobble, presented it to Steve proudly. So he wouldn't have to hurt his back hunched over on the bed or the couch, he had said, this would work until they could get a real drafting table and Steve could be a published artist for real.  

It still shook every once in a while, usually just when Steve erased too hard or blended charcoal a little too vigorously but now it seems to stand proud and true, as cool and confident as the man perched on the edge of it.

“ C'mere,” Bucky drawls, patting his thigh, thick and muscular in the dark wool trousers of his formal uniform. “Sergeant's orders.”

Steve swallows thickly. All of a sudden the apartment seems too hot even though it's February, too stuffy even though the draft is as bad as ever, blowing cold through that crack in the window frame they never could fix. Bucky is  _ back _ , and in uniform, and handsome as ever. God, so handsome. More so than before, even. It takes all of two seconds for Steve to cross the room and melt into Bucky's outstretched arms, place his hands on his broad chest and rest his head on Bucky's shoulder like they've done a thousand times.

“ You're a sight for sore eyes, let me tell you that.” Bucky croons as Steve folds himself against him, rubbing his hand up and down Steve's back, soothing. He can feel the bumps , Steve's spine under three layers of clothes and as always, his hand damn covers an absurd amount of Steve's tiny back. “There's no Steve in Wisconsin, y’know. What kinda sorry, sad place is that?”

Steve shakes his head against his shoulder and reaches up to take the cap off when Bucky ducks his head, setting it gingerly on the chair he'd kicked aside to assume his easygoing pose. He ignores the whining in favor of stroking thin, chilled fingers along Bucky's jaw, so familiar. Not the barest hint of stubble there; he'd really cleaned up nice for him.

“I didn't know you were coming back so soon. You didn't write…”

“ Surprise,” Bucky grins, hooking his finger under Steve's chin and bringing their faces closer together. Steve expects a kiss. He knows how Bucky works by now, knows he feeds on the attention; likes to press a hand at the small of his back and pull him in close, make him swoon like the dames do when they see him. He's ready for it, parts his lips in anticipation, but instead Bucky just nuzzles their noses together as his hands rub Steve's shoulders, an unconscious gesture he's always done to warm the goosebumps on his arms.

His lips are still inches from Steve's, though, breaths hot and stuffy when Steve breathes in secondhand air, the exhale of his words tickling Steve's waiting lips. Whispering, like it's the most amazing of secrets: “Your handsome soldier is back to see his sweetheart. Now ain't that a Valentine's Day miracle.”

“ Aw hell, Bucky, quit it,” Steve says, but he buries his face in Bucky's broad chest just the same.  _ Like the women do to their men when they get home off the plane _ , he thinks. 

Hell, he'd forgotten Valentine's was even coming, but here Bucky is. They've never really celebrated it before, at least not officially - that was for the couples people approved of, not your hidden friend turned roommate turned lover, stuck hovering on the verge of something else but no less secretive. Bucky had bought him chocolates, once; so rich and velvety on his tongue he thought he'd be sick after just one, but Steve hadn't considered until now that they were for Valentine's. Another time, too, Bucky brought home a paper flower from some kid selling them a penny on the street. A rose made of red paper, spritzed with some cheap perfume. Steve liked it just the same.

Bucky's arms around him feel even stronger, somehow, than they had before he left and Steve feels that hot, stuffy feeling again. He can breathe just fine - Bucky's long since learned how to hold him so he doesn't put too much weight on his chest, doesn’t hinder his breathing. He pulls back to look Bucky over,  _ really _ look him over – shoes shined, not a crease in his jacket out of place, tie perfectly straight. A real soldier, a real man.  _ His man? _

“ You like what you see, huh Stevie?” Bucky asks after a minute, low and quiet. His hands on Steve's shoulders sling low and lazy on his back. He's holding Steve against his chest gently, innocent except for the way he pulls Steve's thighs to snug tight around one of his legs, kissing the tip of his nose and the arch of his cheek, traveling a path to his temple so he can talk right in his ear. “I remember when I first got this, y’know. Thought you were gonna come in your pants.”

Steve scowls and puts his fingers against Bucky's lips. “You just hush up about that.”

He's right, though. Steve's a sucker for a man in uniform, he guesses, just a big sucker. Not his fault that Bucky looks so handsome. Clean-cut and confident, his uniform fitting just right, hugging a broad chest, strong arms, and nicely formed legs, looking like it was made just for him. There had been a party, he remembers, just before the other guys in their neighborhood had shipped out to Wisconsin for basic. All the fellas in their special olive green coats and brown belts, their caps tipped just so, but Bucky had been the most handsome of all. Didn't matter that he'd been drafted instead of enlisting and if it were up to him, he'd wear a shirt two sizes too small and pants full of patches if it meant he could stay home, he looked handsome as hell in the uniform just the same. 

Steve had wanted to tear it off of him.

“ What a helluva send-off that was, baby doll,” Bucky says fondly, kissing at Steve's fingers atop his lips, then nipping at them. “Tell me, did it get you all hot and bothered thinkin' about how I left you with something to remember me by when I left?”

Steve looks confused, head cocked cutely to the side. That damn near kills Bucky, makes him want to grab Steve's smooth cheeks in his big hands and kiss him breathless. He brings a hand up to stroke along Steve's throat, and he sees the flicker in Steve’s eyes that tell him he remembers. A line of bitten bruises, sucked fresh into his skin. Hickies, left him looking like he'd been necking with someone for days on end, and the subtle burn in his thigh muscles from spreading them too wide for too long, the echo of wetness leaking out of him.

“ Hush up, I said,” Steve sighed. He doesn't answer  _ yes, it had, made me burn half-sick between the jealousy you got in and the ache of missing you.  _ Then, shyly, a few moments later: “You're gonna keep it on though, right?”

He turns pink, then red. Bucky's grin turns feral. “Are you saying, Steven Rogers -”

“ Naw, ain't sayin' nothin', I take it back -”

Bucky's voice lowers. “ That you want me to give it to you, dressed like this?”

Steve's lashes flutter as he closes his eyes, letting the sound of Bucky's voice wash over him. “Yeah, that is what I'm sayin'. Don't go gettin' a big head about it.”

“ Something's gonna be real big soon, Stevie, just you wait and see.” Steve's eyes say  _ prove it _ in response.

Bucky lifts Steve up easily, switches their positions and spreads his skinny legs so they're cradling his hips as he sets him on the desk. Steve is already pulling at his jacket, stripping it off to the threadbare sweater underneath and surging up to kiss him, making a soft, disgruntled noise when his hand gets stuck in his sleeve. Cute as hell, Bucky thinks. Steve's always been a impatient, feisty little thing.

Bucky kisses him for the first time since returning. Truly kisses him, an honest to God heart-stopping kiss that he summons up from his fucking soul. Steve's lips are chapped from the cold air when they touch his own, but his mouth is warm when he licks inside it like a man starved. He's hungry, so hungry; been without Steve for a long, cold winter. “Don't stop,” is all Steve says, so Bucky doesn't.

“ Your wish is my command, dollface,” Bucky says. Steve crinkles his nose in fake disgust and presses against him, thighs squeezing tighter. He can already feel the stirrings of arousal in himself, knows Bucky can sense it in him – he's always been real good at that, not that it's too hard to notice when he's squirming against him the way he is.

They kiss until Steve is gasping, until Bucky's eyes were dark and wide as they look him over, until Steve can feel Bucky's cock through the thick wool, a complement to the erection he's working on himself. Then Bucky says “Hold on, baby, I'll take you to bed,” and Steve doesn't want to let that happen.

Bucky braces Steve against him to lift him up, carry him to the bedroom with every intention to lay him down and treat him right. Steve stops him with a hand on his chest.

“ No,” he breathes, skinny chest heaving. Fingers circling around a shiny button on Bucky's jacket before freeing it from its catch, he says “Right here, Buck.”

“ What'd you say?” Steve never wants to fuck anywhere but their messy bed. Not that Bucky minds it, really. Steve has a bad back and trouble breathing in strange positions, gets too cold without clothes or blankets and sometimes things irritate his skin. Besides, even if it wasn't like that, the bed would be his favorite place to roll around with him in anyway. Make it real official.

But  _ this _ ...this is a chance at something new, this is  _ exciting _ .

Christ, this is hot as hell.

“ Right here, I said. Ya deaf or dumb?” Steve grabs Bucky's tie to tug him down into another kiss, loosening it with his fingers as he moans into his mouth. The remaining buttons on Bucky's jacket are easy, big and round and easy to hold, but the buttons on his shirt are different. Smaller. Harder to undo with cold fingers, but Steve makes short enough work of them, tugging the shirt from where it's tucked into his pants and parting it to reveal the tank beneath it. “Christ, Bucky.”

“ Your hands on me again feel like spring,” Bucky sighs, leaning down to nuzzle at Steve's neck while Steve's fingers curl around the edge of his undershirt. “Like I froze my ass off all winter and now my blood's runnin' hot again.”

“Never woulda  guessed,” Steve snarks, rocking as best he can against the hard line of Bucky's cock in his uniform slacks, arching his neck to Bucky's questing mouth.

“ Didn't mean it like that,” Bucky teases as he reaches for Steve's belt, undoing it and tugging it away, popping the button on his pants afterwards and sucking a fresh bruise into the column of his pretty throat as he pushes pants and briefs out of the way. “But yeah. That too.”

Bucky's blood is running hot as hell, Steve can feel it. There's heat pouring off of him, skin so warm it could put their apartment's rickety old radiator to shame. Makin Steve feel like he'll never be cold again, like all he has to do is press himself to Bucky and flush with heat right down to his bones.

“ Bucky, I want it.” he says quietly, honestly.

“ And I wanna give it to you, sweet thing. Slip it to you nice and easy, watch your face while you take it all in. Memorize it.” Bucky groans when his hand brushes over his own cock in an effort to get at least one of Steve's legs free of his pants so he can get to work on spreading him open. “Gotta give it to ya with my fingers first.”

He reaches down beside Steve into the top drawer of the desk and pulls out the Vaseline and Steve's eyes light up. He'd planned this, and now Steve knows.  _ Good, _ Bucky thinks. Let him know just how bad he wants him. 

“ Scoundrel.” Steve says as Bucky tugs his pants and underwear down and off a leg, leaving them hanging in some haphazard drape on the remaining one. It's awkward at best, but something about it is hot, something about it gets Steve's blood rushing the way he knows Bucky's is.

“ Yeah. Your scoundrel, though.”

Bucky unbuttons his slacks and lets them fall open, lets Steve get a good look at him, hard in his briefs. His cock is at the ready, leaving a damp spot on the front and Christ, this is pathetic; he's making such a mess just from Steve kissing him that he can't even begin to imagine what he's going to do when he gets in him.

“ Oh hell, Bucky.” Steve's practically drooling, leaning back on his hands so Bucky can get at him better, eyes torn between locking intensely with Bucky's or wandering appreciatively over the cut of his hips leading to the way his cock is straining against the confining fabric. He braces his foot on the edge of the desk so Bucky has as easier job of it, lets his shoe slip off in the process and fall to the ground, a sound he barely even hears as over his heart thumping loud and fast. It's not the most comfortable position; the desk is cold and the air is colder and he's bent in a way he knows will make his back burn later but god damn, it's worth it for the way Bucky looks him over. Like he's the greatest sight he's ever seen, the eighth wonder of the world or some shit.

The first press of Bucky's fingers inside is tense, unfamiliar after months without it. Not that Steve hasn't played with himself on nights he's so lonely it aches, but it's different when it's Bucky – thicker fingers, different angle, so much  _ better _ , and he squirms, lets his hips buck their own rhythm when Bucky starts stroking his cock as he works his fingers in.

“ Stevie,” Bucky groans when he works up to three fingers, like he's already inside him. Steve's tight around just his fingers, squeezing with every little tense and clench his body makes and it just makes Bucky's cock even harder. “Oh, Stevie, can't wait to make you mine again, oh,  _ Steve _ .”

“ Don't you take any of your clothes off when you do it, soldier.” Steve moans, beautiful and broken, rocking down on Bucky's fingers as they curl inside him, rub against that sweet little spot that makes him lose his damn mind. “You keep that uniform on and take me like a man.”

Oh,  _ hell _ . That's too much for Bucky, too much when Steve is already the cutest damn thing he's ever seen, the most beautiful when he wants it. Like an angel, Bucky says – Steve looks the part, all pale skin and blond hair, blue eyes like the summer sky, but he has an attitude straight from hell.

“ I gotta be careful, doll,” he teases as he palms himself through the briefs with his free hand. “Didn't know you'd get  _ this _ hot for a man in uniform.”

“ Shut up. Just you.”

Bucky growls low into the spot between Steve's jaw and ear, nipping at his earlobe as he pulls his fingers out and pushes his briefs down, freeing his cock and shuddering when the cold air hits. Just another reason to get it inside Steve as soon as possible, he tells himself. Another reason to make him his.“ _ Good _ .”

It's stupid, he knows. Stupid and dangerous, but he doesn't know what he'd do if another guy touched Steve Rogers like this. Anyone, really, if he's being honest with himself in the dead of night when his thoughts won't let him sleep, but another man on Steve like this would make him sick with rage. No one else, he thinks as he slicks his cock up and positions it at Steve's hole, slick and ready and such a tight hot squeeze Bucky swears he'll lose it right then. Been too long, he'll explain, when really Steve always has that effect on him. 

Bucky knows they make quite a picture in the middle of it all: Steve, all skinny arms and legs up around him and himself, standard-issue military shirttails hanging untucked from his pants that are half falling down his ass with each thrust of his hips into Steve's tight ass. They're shaking the damn desk, making it rattle against a thick supporting beam between the window panes and it makes him laugh, throw his head back in the middle of fucking and  _ laugh.  _ It's like one of those bodice-ripping romance novels your mommas weren't supposed to have and it's funny. Less funny when Steve clenches punishingly tight around him and scowls. Bucky laughs again, throatier and heavy, and snaps his hips forward to show Steve he still means business.

Steve's moans muffle nicely into Bucky's chest and his fingers clutch at his tie, the lapels of his coat, fingers threading through his hair as he pushes back down against each thrust Bucky gives him up inside. _ “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky _ .”

God, Bucky could spend the rest of his life listening to Steve Rogers say his name. Doesn't even have to be while they're fucking, though that's one of the best. Two syllables, one sweet voice, a little on the deep side for his cute little body.  _ Bucky _ .

“ Stevie, shit, you're so tight and hot just for me, I missed you like fuckin' crazy...” Bucky's losing coherency, now, losing all of his smooth talking and flirting in favor of the real dirty stuff, the stuff he only says when he's balls deep inside of his boy. “ _ Mine _ .”

Steve loves when Bucky calls him his, but he hates to admit it. Hearing it makes his pulse race, not like an asthma attack or his anxiety, not like his blood pressure too high, not even the way it does when Bucky makes him whiny and greedy, makes him really want it. It's different; deeper, somewhere down in his soul and he loves it. Makes him want to spend every moment of his life shuddering on Bucky's cock, listening to Bucky fuckin' Barnes tell him he wants him, that god dammit, he's  _ his _ , forever and always, in every single damn way you can belong to someone.

Bucky comes hard when Steve does, with one final thrust that makes Steve's blunt fingernails dig into his bare shoulder where his shirt's fallen open. It hits him like a freight train, all inelegant and blindsiding, shoves him over the edge rather than dances him and the way Steve's squeezing so god-awful sinful tight around him doesn't help one goddamn bit.

“ I'm glad you're home,” Steve says when the glow’s wearing off, when he's ridden the last of Bucky's half-hearted thrusts out with quiet little half-moans. His breath coming in short gasps, hands not quite working as he runs them across Bucky's sweaty chest. “But come on, my ass is freezin' over here. Gotta get my clothes back on.”

“ You ruined it, Stevie.” Bucky says with a laugh and a shake of his head as he claims Steve's lips in another kiss, pressing against him. He's still inside him and he has no particular desire to stop being there, but the last thing he wants is for Steve Rogers to catch his death 'cause his ass was hanging out all bare in an ice-cold apartment. “'Sposed to be cute and tell me how much you love me, how much you like what I do to you-”

“ You're fishin' for compliments. Shove off!” Steve teases, hands pushing at Bucky's broad chest but there's no real force behind them. Bucky ducks his head to kiss Steve's still-flushed neck, nibbles on the delicate flutter of his pulse before he speaks again, low and quiet.

“ How much you love my thick-”

Steve’s indignant holler is interrupted by a knock at the door and a high, shrill voice.“Steven? Steven Rogers? Are you alright? I heard a thud...”

“Oh it's nothin', Ms. O'Reilly! Bucky's just home on leave, and he's fixin' my desk for me again! You know that wobbly one...”

Steve flushes bright fucking red and Bucky thinks he might die from holding in the laugh. They hear her shuffle away in her slippers, hear the of her apartment squeak open and click closed.

“ The one that we dented your door with when we first brought it in here...” Steve mutters under his breath afterwards. An accident that had sent Bucky into a fit of giggles so ridiculous he sounded like he was drunk for fifteen minutes, an accident Steve had felt so damn bad for.

Bucky laughs then. He can’t hold it in any longer, muffling it into Steve's pretty neck. “The one that we're currently on playin’ grab-ass without a care in the world...”

“ BUCKY BARNES!”

“ Love ya.”


End file.
